Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs and parts of the storyline I have inserted.

A/N: Welcome viewers! I hope you enjoy this first chapter. Comments are welcome! Special thanks to Arianna Le Fay for helping me choose the name of my OC and the actress she looks like: Emilia Clarke. All other characters are their respective selves in Wolfgang Petersen's Troy.

Prologue

A sudden blow: the great wings beating still

Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed

By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,

He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.

How can those terrified vague fingers push

The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?

And how can body, laid in that white rush,

But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?

A shudder in the loins engenders there

The broken wall, the burning roof and tower

And Agamemnon dead.

Being so caught up,

So mastered by the brute blood of the air,

Did she put on his knowledge with his power

Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?

Leda and the Swan~William Butler Yeats

The gods all sat in council on Mount Olympus, judging the mortals below for their crimes and grievances against them as well as their fellow humans. Zeus was at the head of the table, his regal aura surrounding the other gods and goddesses, his commanding posture ordering them to not speak out of turn nor anger him or else they would feel his wrath. His crystal blue eyes held a stern gaze as he listened to the current argument amongst them. He held his chiseled chin with his hand, contemplating how to respond and his eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"We must do something about Agamemnon's actions. He's way out of line for this last stunt he pulled," spoke Athena. As the goddess of wisdom, Athena knew how to punish him yet she rarely ever considered tormenting the great Kings of the Greece. However, Agamemnon came from a cursed royal line beginning with his grandfather, Tantalos, whom fed the gods his own son. Pelops of course was granted rebirth in a way and was restored to his former self, only his shoulder specially made by the gods as Demeter was the only goddess to not notice she was eating human flesh because of her grieving over Persephone. Tantalos was then punished by the gods, living in the underworld as a forever tantalized being, not being able to quench his thirst or fill his stomach, forever thirsty and hungry for his crimes against the gods.

Pelops did not fall far from the tree. In order to win King Oenomaus's daughter's hand in marriage, he sabotaged the chariot race by bribing the king's servant, Myrtilus. Pelops had promised him that he could take Hippodamia's virtue if he won. However, Pelops went back on his promise, pushing Myrtilus off a cliff, but not before his whole entire line was again cursed.

The couple had many sons, including Atreus and Thyestes, both of whom engaged in their own quarrel over Atreus's wife, Aerope, who committed adultery with Thyestes. In response to the adultery, Atreus fed Thyestes's sons to him in a grand banquet, revealing what the contents of food were at the end by unveiling Thyestes's sons' heads. Thyestes's cursed his brother, committing incest with his daughter, Pelopia, who bore Aegisthus. He would avenge his father for his brother's actions.

Agamemnon now held no regards for the gods, adding more lands to his kingdom and forcing the princes of the many nations he conquered under his control. He never prayed to the gods nor mentioned them as his reason for success and that was his crime. His most recent conquest had been that of the kingdom of Cyparissus. Thousands of soldiers had died, but did he care? No, of course not. Agamemnon was the King of Mycenae and never fought his wars, instead using his men to satisfy his greed for land and power. Only Menelaus was spared as the brother of Agamemnon and the King of Sparta.

"Let him be," replied Hermes who was absentmindedly picking at his nails, bored with the meeting and ready to engage in his regular activity of causing mischief and delivering lost souls to the underworld. His catlike eyes narrowed as his sister glared at him in warning.

"Enough." Zeus held up his hand, halting the bickering of his children. "What do you propose daughter?" All the gods and goddesses leaned forward, eager to hear of what the mighty daughter of Zeus had to say.

"Agamemnon has recently been married to Clytemnestra and Menelaus to Helen, your daughters by Leda father."

Zeus nodded, confirming her thoughts. Hera rolled her eyes, tired of her husband's extramarital affairs. She dealt with it though, as any wife would.

Leda had been one of his more recent conquests. He had been trying to escape from the wrath of an eagle and sought refuge with Leda. Disguised as a swan, Zeus had visited and impregnated Leda who vowed she would never deceive her husband, Tyndareus. Tyndareus also laid with her that night. As a result, she bore two eggs: Helen and Clytemnestra in one egg and her sons Pollux and Castor in the other. As she grew, Helen had blossomed into a beautiful young woman, attracting many suitors to Tyndareus's lands. She was capture by Theseus, but returned when he realized she was too young to wed. He later traveled to the underworld to steal Persephone from Hades and would have remained imprisoned in the underworld if wasn't for Heracles rescue mission. When Helen came of marriageable age, Tyndareus made all the suitors promise to enter a pact in which they would all come to the aid of Helen's future husband if necessary. Helen was the married off to Menelaus and Leda and Tyndareus stepped aside for Menelaus and Helen to take the throne of Sparta.

"Perhaps we should curse his line, make him barren and prevent him from furthering his blood line."

A loud chuckle reverberated throughout the room. "Perhaps you are thinking too harsh sister, even if it is you," Apollo murmured, his features alight in mirth.

"Hmmmm Apollo is right. Perhaps another tactic would be well deserved." Zeus fell back in his throne, hands gripping the arms of the chair. "I have an idea. Hasn't Helen fallen pregnant already?"

"So soon? The girl is barely 14 years old, too fragile to bear children," Hera voiced. "She'll die as soon as the babe is born and her child with her."

"Not if we intervene." Athena muttered to her so-called step-mother. "We can protect them and Helen could deliver a child that would cause the ruin of the house of Atreus. A child that defies everything the men of the family believe. A woman amongst men, a ruler of men, a woman that cannot be controlled, a female warrior."

The others listened keenly, intrigued by the turn of events. This would be the greatest intervention of the gods in the time of men, a child of their own that would do their bidding and cease the power of Agamemnon and challenge him in every way possible.

"It has been decided then." The gods all nodded in agreement to Zeus's comment. "Do what you must. Apollo and Athena, you will be her guardians. Bestow upon her the many qualities you deem fit to give her. Guide her. Watch over her. She will be our champion."

All the gods arose from the table, bowing to Zeus as he left the grand hall and traveled to his personal chambers. All minds were filled with thoughts of this new arrangement.

"Are you sure this will work?" Hera questioned the others. "The last time he did this was with Perseus and he was almost killed by the gorgon. And he was man mind you. Men survive far longer than women do in the challenges presented before them."

"The child will be fine with our guidance Hera." Athena cut her off, her eyes scrutinizing Hera's every word. Hera was always negative when it came to Zeus's offspring, always plotting ways to destroy them and Zeus's lovers. Hera let out an exasperated sigh and glared at Athena before departing. The others followed until only Apollo, Artemis, and Athena remained.

"Together will work together and bring down the greed of men sisters." Apollo looked at Artemis and Athena, his eyes holding sincerity. The three gods and goddesses all nodded to each other and left the room together before departing their separate ways. Athena to her study as always, her loyal owl hooting as she entered the room. Apollo traveled to Delphi where he watched over the Oracle as she delivered prophecies embedded with riddles to the mortals. Artemis left the luxuries of Olympus to be with her nymph followers as they frolicked through the woods looking for her sacred deer. The gods had returned to their regular schedules, but their work had barely even started.

As a son of the sea nymph, Thetis, Achilles was anything but normal. His mother would not stand for a mortal son so she had dipped him in a pot of boiling water or better yet, the river Styx, and fed him ambrosia to turn him into an immortal. However, she held him by the heels making him not completely immortal. Once his father Peleus had found out, that had been the end of it.

At a very young age, Achilles had been handed off to the wise centaur Chiron. He reared him as his own son and trained him to the mightiest warrior the gods had ever seen. He was then passed to Phoenix, one of his father's closest friends, and fulfilled his destiny as a great warrior.

Now at the age of 18, Achilles had returned from war to Phthia for his father's funeral. Peleus had urged Achilles to not go to war again, wishing for his son to be present at his side. Achilles had ignored his father's pleas, instead seeking out war and glory. He stood there with a grim expression on his face, the creases in his forehead multiplying the longer he stared at his father's body. His hands were clasped together at his side, the muscles in his arms tensing whenever he squeezed his fists tighter. His dark blue eyes were steady, never wavering, keeping vigilant watch like a hawk scanning the ground for prey. That was what Achilles was though, a predator of men, the cloak of death. He couldn't think of any moment in which he hadn't been a warrior. He was constantly fighting, in war and in life.

As the flames devoured his father's body, Achilles watched the smoke rise into the sky, traveling to the heavens where the gods resided. He cursed himself for not listening to his father, berated himself for being too prideful and not mindful of what his father wanted from him. He couldn't remember a moment where he had truly spent time with his father. He knew Peleus had cared for him greatly, but he didn't take part in his upbringing as Chiron and Phoenix had done. Phoenix had fed Achilles as a child, cared for him as if he was his own son. Phoenix of course was cursed so he was not able to have any children due to his involvement with a woman his father had been interested in. His mother had urged him to take the girl and defy his father. Doing so, he was exiled and cursed by his father and retreated to Phthia where Peleus welcomed him with open arms and bestowed upon him many riches and land. Chiron was the famous centaur, half-man and half-horse, renown for wisdom throughout all of Greece. He taught Achilles the way of warriors and princes, divulging the ways men evolve to greatness. These two men had much more influence on Achilles life than Peleus ever did.

The sound of hooves reached Achilles ears, his eyes darting to the source of noise disrupting his father's funeral rites. He was angry, that much was known. By the way his jaw ticked and his eyes darkened, no one would want to disrupt him if they saw how deadly he was at that moment.

The approaching rider halted several feet away from him, dust rising around his mount as he dismounted. "My lord," he said respectfully, bowing before him. "King Agamemnon requests your presence in Argos immediately." The man had no idea who he had just upset and how much danger he had just put himself in because of the orders of his master.

Achilles stood in front of the man within seconds, taking large steps to reach the man, his iron grip seizing the shirt of the man forcefully. The messenger shook in shock, his face betraying how scared he was in that moment. "You tell your king I will see him when I see fit. My father deserves his 12 days of funeral rites and I will give them to him." He spit the words into the man's face, his teeth gritting with the amount of anger he put behind every word. "Now get out of my sight." Achilles forcefully shoved the man backwards, his strength sending the poor servant to the ground. The man looked up exasperated before scurrying to pick himself up and mount his steed. He disappeared as quickly as possible, forgetting his manners towards nobility as he left without a bow or goodbye.

Achilles was infuriated, waves of heat rolling off his body as he glared at the back of the retreating rider. Curse that man for his intrusion and the gull of Agamemnon he thought. He returned to the task at hand and took his place in front of his father's funeral pyre. The smoke continued to curl up and into the air until the sun settled on the horizon, sinking into the ocean as the moon rose into the sky. The flames died down and all that was left were the ashes of Peleus.

Achilles hated the pomp and circumstance of Agamemnon's court. Everyone always seemed to be sucking up to the so-called king who sat on his throne watching as his soldiers won his wars for him. It was disgusting, the way the other kings of Greece were put under his control and forced to fight for him. They were then called to court to congratulate Agamemnon for a victory he had done nothing for. Achilles rolled his eyes at the spectacle, wishing he could be somewhere else other than in the presence of such a pig of a man. Currently, the man in question was greedily groping some slave girl who was drowning in all the attention he was giving her. She pulled her dress up higher around her thighs as Agamemnon ran his hands up and down the smooth skin and leaned in closer to suck on the girl's slim throat. Agamemnon's brother, Menelaus, was doing the same with his own entertainer for evening, a belly dancer hired for that evening. Achilles turned away from the scene, repulsed at what he had just seen and focused his attention on the wine in his cup, swallowing it down in one gulp before holding it out to a servant to be refilled.

The doors to the grand chamber suddenly opened, creaking loudly as the guards pushed them open for the newcomer. Achilles head darted up, taking in the woman's appearance. Her hair was golden and perfectly arranged at the top of her head, a gold circlet placed on top. Her eyes were the clearest blue, like when the ocean was at its calmest and the sun shined to the bottom to the point where the water was almost translucent. Her face was young, no wrinkles or scars marred her face. She could have been no older than Achilles himself. Her body was covered with the most expensive silk, a light blue that made her eyes pop. It was clasped at her shoulders with two golden pins and a gold belt was tied around her waist. The only jewelry she wore was the circlet on her head and a pair of earrings that hung from her ears, sparkling in the firelight. In her arms, she held a child that could perhaps be no older than three. Her head was buried in her mother's shoulders, her unruly hair covering her face from view.

The woman walked timidly into the room, her handmaiden following diligently behind her, urging her mistress to return to her chambers with the child. The hall was no place for a woman of her standards, especially at that time of the evening when the most scandalous and lude things occurred between the men and the ladies of the night, and in public where all could see. That was the behavior of men though, showing their dominance over woman and exposing their manhood for all the world to see to receive praise from the other men resent for their actions.

She slowly walked towards where Menelaus was sitting, her face cringing in repugnance as she watched the man indulge himself with the belly dancer. He looked up for a moment, his eyes lighting up as he saw the woman coming towards him. It was in that moment that Achilles realized this could only be Helen, the wife of Menelaus, and the most beautiful woman of all Greece. Menelaus rose from his seat, pushing the leech-like woman away from him as he tried disentangle himself from her arms. He roughly shoved her away from himself, rising from his position to reach his wife. She crossed her arms across her chest, huffing in annoyance and pursing her lips as she watched Menelaus retreat. Achilles had never seen such a sight. Usually the men would make a joke to their wives or ignores their presence, but not Menelaus. Helen reached her arms out, passing the child to her husband who held the girl close to his chest as she linked her hands around his neck.

That was when her head turned and Achilles eyes locked with the most unique eyes he had ever seen. They were a combination of blue and green, an array of shades he could not decipher. At first they appeared a light blue, like her mother's, but the more she opened her eyes, the more you could see the light green with specks of gold surrounding the irises. Her hair was blond, almost to the point where it appeared white. Tears stained her face, but made the child look even more angelic. Her eyes were studying him with the type of curiosity a child possessed, staring for several seconds before turning away just to look right back at him, no shame in the way she was watching him. She then turned her attention to Menelaus who was questioning Helen over what was wrong with their child.

"She was glowing again in her sleep. Only brighter this time, he eyes opened and they were white Menelaus. I've never seen anything like it. She kept muttering words under her breath, but she spoke so fast I couldn't understand anything she was saying." Helen stroked her daughter's hair with the utmost care, looking frightened at what she had witnessed and guilty she had screamed at what she saw, startling her daughter out of her unconscious mind and making her cry fearfully.

"It's a symbol of the gods, that much I can tell." Menelaus quieted his daughters sniffling by murmuring soothingly to her and drying the tears from her eyes. She hiccupped in response, snuggling further into his chest. "It's alright my Panthea. You are safe." Menelaus nodded to Helen before leading her out of the hall, his hand on her lower back in comfort. The couple may have had their arguments and spats, Menelaus sometimes being verbally and physically abusive, but when it came to their daughter, Menelaus was surprisingly attentive and concerned. Fatherhood had changed him in a way, his daughter acting as a shield for her mother.

Achilles watched the pair leave the revelries of the evening, but not before receiving one last curious look from the child Panthea, a child of the gods.

Hector had retired from his princely duties of the day and was now relaxing in the royal stables grooming his stallion. The stud nickered at Hector as he finished brushing his coat and fed him another apple from the basket of treats one of the servant girls had brought to him. Lifting his arm, Hector rubbed off the sweat on his forehead and stared into the sun. It was hotter than usual; the gods having decided to send a massive heat wave to Troy instead of blessing them with rain. Hector's father, Priam, would surely be urging the priests to conduct more sacrifices that evening. He rolled his eyes at that. Priam focused too much on signs from the gods, too superstitious for the likes of Hector.

At the age of 22, Hector was renowned for his abilities on the battlefield and the way he handled the affairs of his father's kingdom, Troy, with an air of ease. The people were dependent on Priam's heir as he would be their future leader and all their fates resided in him, in his ability to be a leader and a warrior. Hector understood his responsibilities and his duty to his father as well as his people, much more than his younger brothers who did not have that type of burden.

Standing at 6'1, Hector was quite an attractive figure with his curly brown hair and dark eyes that were mysterious, as if they held secrets no one knew. He had just been able to start growing a light beard which made him look even more handsome with his rugged appearance. His muscles were prominent under the usual royal blue attire for the day, but with his armor on they were bulging whenever he lifted his sword above his head to strike an enemy down in the battlefield.

His brother Paris was considered the prettier of the two though, his boyish features not yet matured and his lean figure attracting the attention of all the younger girls. He was immature though and cared more for archery and flirting rather than sword fighting and paying attention to his lessons, something Hector would have to work on with him to make him a better warrior. At the age of 12, Paris was still learning and would excel if he listened to Priam and paid attention to Hector's words. He was on the brink of manhood, the age where childish pastimes would soon have to come to an end and the embracement of one's masculine identity would occur.

Out of nowhere, Paris appeared behind his elder brother, out of breath as he had run towards Hector as if his life had depended on it. "Hello brother," he wheezed out, leaning over to catch his breath by placing his hands on his knees.

Hector eyed him suspiciously, his eyes narrowing at his unkempt appearance. "What's got you in such a rush Paris? I hope you weren't spying on mother's handmaiden's again."

Paris was known for being mischievous, though Priam rarely scolded the boy. He had recently gotten caught spying on his mother's ladies as they bathed in the river Scamander next to Troy. Hecuba had been furious, dead set on punishing her younger son, but all Priam did was laugh aloud when the story was told to him and beckoned Hecuba to reconsider. He told his wife that Paris was a young boy and that of course curiosity would get the best of him. The situation was seemingly hilarious to him, but he did tell Paris that if it happened again that Priam himself could not get him out of his punishment from Hecuba. Priam then patted the boys head and let Paris go on his way.

"Of course not Hector. I know better…I don't get caught now." Paris grinned up cheekily at Hector, who in turn rolled his eyes at his brother's antics, a small smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. His brother may have been wrong in his actions, but it was still quite amusing.

"Why are you here then brother?" Hector questioned Paris. Paris's cheeks immediately reddened at his brother's comments, his eyes now darting anywhere else then Hector's face. He sandals began to kick up dust as he avoided his elder brother's question. "Paris, tell me," Hector urged, a stern expression on his face.

Paris met his brother's dark eyes with his blue ones and answered his brother. "I may or may not have ridden father's horse today." His eyes moved back to the ground again.

"You what?" Hector spoke. He groaned in exasperation. "You mean stole it Paris? You know better than that. No one is to ride that horse, but father himself."

"I know brother, but I was bored. It seemed like a perfect moment to go for a ride." Paris continued to avoid his brother's sharp glare. "It's not like it hurt anybody."

"And tell me Paris, where is father's horse now?" Hector said the words in a deadly tone. He had not seen the steed when he entered the stables and now he was dreading the answer his brother would give him.

Paris's cheeks blushed even more. "You see, that's the problem. He spooked when I was riding him and I fell off. I tried running after him, but he had galloped away so fast that I couldn't keep up with him. I don't even know where he is now." He looked guilty now, the way his hands and feet were fidgeting.

"Of course. Once again you have truly outdone yourself." Hector angrily exited his steed's stall, slamming the stall door behind him and startling the horse before coming to stand in front of his troublesome brother. He regretted scarring the creature, but he couldn't help himself. He was furious with his brother's rash actions, cursing him for it would be he that would have to find Priam's beloved stallion and not Paris. Paris wouldn't be able to find him anyway let alone catch the horse. Plus, his father would see it as Hector's responsibility not Paris's.

Hector forcefully grabbed the front of Paris's shirt before pulling him in his direction towards the palace. Of course, he wasn't really pulling Paris, but dragging with the way how large and quick his steps were. Paris could hardly keep up with his brother's raging self and sprinted to keep up as well as prevent his shirt from being ripped to shreds. They would have to discuss this issue with Priam whether Paris wanted to or not. His father would find out eventually, even if the horse had been returned or not before anyone noticed.

Entering the main entrance of the palace, the two young princes traveled to their father's throne room. Upon entering, many of the members of the court bowed respectfully and then returned to their previous activities. Priam was seated at his throne with Hecuba as his side as well as his daughter, Cassandra. She was his father's favorite and often was seen at his side in the throne room when serious matters were not being discussed. Younger than Paris by four years, she held this air of knowledge around herself and proved to be very intelligent for her age. She was destined to be a priestess of Apollo when she was old enough and Priam and Hecuba were ever proud of their daughter's early decision.

Seeing his sons enter, Priam rose from his throne and embraced both sons in a fatherly manner. He had immediately noticed Hector's severe expression and Paris's scared one, but he made no look on his face that he had acknowledged their expressions. "Leave us," he voiced to the court. The members of the court listened obediently to the King of Troy's commands and left the royal family to themselves.

Silence echoed throughout the throne room, Priam scrutinizing his sons. "What has happened?" he questioned.

Hector nudged Paris forward and nodded towards their father. Paris had been the source of trouble therefore he would be the one admitting his fault to his father and not his elder brother.

"Father I…I…" Paris's voice stuttered, "I rode your prized stallion this afternoon." He looked guiltily at the ground like he did when he told Hector of his dilemma.

"Did you now." Priam and Hecuba both looked at Hector for confirmation while Cassandra's mouth dropped open like a fish. Hector nodded in response to his father's questioning look. Priam was angry, but unlike other men, he remained eerily calm and composed. "And where is my horse now Paris?" His eyebrows rose in question.

Paris loudly gulped, his nervousness apparent to all his family members present. "Lost father. I fell while I was riding him and he disappeared before I could do anything." He rose his head to meet his father's stormy eyes. "I'm sorry father. I know I've done wrong, Hector made sure I knew. I did not have permission therefore I disobeyed you."

"Yes you did. And now you are to go to rooms for the rest of the day and are to not emerge until your mother and I come to retrieve you, whenever that may be." Priam eyed his son before nodding his head towards the door of the throne room.

"Yes father." Paris turned quickly, his head drooping as he scurried off to his chambers. Hecuba and Cassandra soon followed, they themselves retiring to Hecuba's chambers. Priam pressed a loving kiss to his wife's forehead before she departed.

"Hector, you are to retrieve my horse. I don't care how long it takes. You shall be the one to find him." Hector glared at his father for his orders. Once again he was to receive the blow for Paris's faults.

"Are you not to punish him father?" Hector questioned challengingly.

The two men's eyes locked in a heated battle, both controlling and powerful figures. "He has been punished the way I see fit. Now I suggest you go and find my horse before it gets dark." Hector knew then that this was not an argument worth fighting for and stopped what he was doing. Diligent as ever, Hector bowed to his father and left the room before focusing on the task at hand, finding his father's stallion.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed the prologue. Comments are welcome!